Stealing All My Time
by xJanzx
Summary: After Ronnie loses her unborn child at the hands of her father, there is only one man that can offer her solace
1. Chapter 1

**Stealing All My Time**

Jack watched as Ronnie slept in his bed, her body curled into the foetal position, her arms wrapped around her stomach, protectively. Protecting something that was no longer there. Jack sucked in a sharp breath, the air getting stuck in his throat, not allowing his lungs the necessity of oxygen.

How could he do this? How could he do this to her – again? Hadn't he done enough to her? Torn her apart so many times that there weren't enough fragments to put her back together again?

Jack felt his heart constrict in agony, a fist curling around the muscle and squeezing until he thought it would rupture. Ronnie's word rang out in his mind, over and over again, bouncing off the walls and penetrating his thoughts.

"_I want him dead."_

He closed his eyes, that one sentence drowning out everything else around him, everything within him. The image of Ronnie's face as the doctor told her what had happened washed across his closed lids. The torment and disbelief marring her delicate features. Her fingernails had dug into her palms, clawing at her hands in a bid to grab hold of something solid to stop her free falling. Jack had stepped forward and taken her hand in his, gently unfurling Ronnie's fingers and holding them. He hadn't said a word and the doctor had left.

Still, neither of them said a word. The minutes had turned to hours, both remaining in that same position. Frozen in time. As though if neither moved, they could prevent the next moment from happening. They could stay in that hospital room, pretending that everything would be fine and that in nine months time, Ronnie would be returning to give birth to her baby. They could pretend for a moment longer if they just didn't say a word.

Just a little longer.

So Jack remained silent, sitting beside Ronnie and holding her hand.

But the silence was shattered by the sound of the room door being opened and a nurse coming in. Her eyes filled with sympathy at the scene that greeted her and she placed a paper pot of pills on the tray at the foot of Ronnie's bed. "Miss Mitchell, you need to take these. They'll help." The nurse told her, her voice was gentle enough, but she may as well have screamed her words into Ronnie's ear.

Ronnie flinched, her eyes fixed on a spot on the wall, refusing to look at the nurse or the pills. The nurse looked to Jack, silently telling him to get Ronnie to take them. "Ron," he whispered, tracing delicate circles on the back of her fingers. "You should take them."

She acted as though she hadn't heard him.

"Ronnie, please – you could get sick if you don't."

Still, she said nothing. But her eyes slid from the wall to look into Jack's. The terror that filled them stopped his heart from beating for a moment. And that's when he knew.

He had to do this for her. She couldn't be the one that removed this child from her body, from her life. She couldn't do it.

He would have to.

Jack moved over to the bedside table and poured her a glass of water. He picked up the small tub of pills and carried them over to Ronnie. His fingers brushed her mouth as he parted her lips before tipping the pills into it. He put the empty container on the table and picked up the glass of water. He raised it to Ronnie's open lips and slowly let the liquid fill her mouth, before returning it to the table top.

"Swallow," Jack murmured. But Ronnie sat frozen in time, her body rigid and tense. Jack leant closer to her, his forehead resting against hers. "Please, Ron, just swallow darling. You have to do this. It'll hurt more if you don't. Please, Ronnie. Please, darling."

After several moments, he heard her gulp. The water and the pills were gone.

Just like her baby.


	2. Chapter 2

Jack pressed his fingers to his lips, his eyes staring intently at the metal object he had placed on the low coffee table in his living room. A chink of the moon's ray filtered through the space in the blinds and cast its light upon it. The silver of the gun glinting in reply.

An hour earlier he had slipped out of the bedroom, leaving Ronnie to sleep as best as she could. He had ventured into his living room and took away the panel in the wall that the safe was hidden behind. His fingers punched in the security code and his hand delved into the secrets of the safe and pulled out the gun.

"_I want him dead."_ That's what she had shouted before her body had succumbed to the agonising pain that sliced through her as Ronnie's unborn child bled from her. As soon as he'd gotten her home, she had lain so still on the bed, her eyes closed but not sleeping. Until the pain had made her sick.

Jack had rubbed her back and lifted her blonde hair from her face and soothed her. And all the while, he couldn't help but think: "I should be doing this whilst our baby's growing, not dying." Ronnie had shuddered beneath his gentle touch, the most delicate of affections seeming cruel and harsh. And painful beyond measure.

They had lain together on his bed, their bodies curled into each other's Jack's arm forming a protective barrier between Ronnie and world. But what good was it now? The world had already got to her, Archie had already hurt her. Stolen another precious life from her.

His hands reached for the gun, the tips of his fingers moving noiselessly against the smooth lines of it. Jack picked it up and flicked open the barrel. He looked inside before spinning it closed. He laid it across his palm. A tiny little hand gun. That's all it was. But the damage it could inflict was irreparable. That's what Jack was betting on, at least.

Getting up from the sofa, he put on his coat and scarf before slipping on a pair of black leather gloves. Making sure the safety was on, Jack dropped the metal object into a pocket on the inside of his coat. Instantly it became heavier.

Picking up his keys from the kitchen counter, Jack walked to the flat door. He stopped, sighing and turning around. He couldn't leave her. She was sleeping, but what would she think when she woke up? Would she think he'd left?

Stepping back into the living room, Jack hurriedly wrote a short note on a scrap piece of paper and placed it on the kitchen counter. He stopped for a moment, his heart telling him to return to the bedroom and take Ronnie in his arms. But Jack his head. He couldn't do that. Not until the man that had ripped away everything from her was dead.

The freezing air hit his face as soon as he stepped out of the flat, a shiver coiling at the base of his spine and making its way up to his neck. Jack walked purposefully through the Square, his eyes scanning for any movement or people. But there none – who in their right mind would be wandering through the Square in the middle of the night on Christmas Day? Nobody sane.

He reached the double red doors of the Vic, but instead of pushing through them, he ducked into the alleyway and silently made his way towards the back door. He took Ronnie's keys from out of his pocket and slipped one into the lock. It turned effortlessly and then he was inside.

Walking the short distance from the back entrance to the bar, Jack's mind was filled with memories of him and Ronnie. That was the place he'd proposed to her, they'd shared their first kiss behind the bar. Everything about this place reminded him of her. But instinctively, he ducked back into the shadows at the sound of voices.

"I've been expecting you," Archie said.

"What have you done, Dad?"


	3. Chapter 3

Jack's brows furrowed and his face set in an angry mask as he heard the exchange between father and daughter. _What the hell is she doing here?_

"How is she?" Archie asked, a note of almost sincere concern in his voice.

Jack watched, from his hiding place, as Roxy's bottom lip trembled. She clamped down on it and shook her head, tears instantly filling her eyes. "She lost the baby."

Archie let out a small sigh, picking up his whisky glass from the bar and taking a long sip. "Right."

A look of disgust crossed Roxy's face as she looked at her father incredulously. "Is that all you can say? 'Right'?"

"Excuse me?"

"Is that it? Is that all you've got to say for yourself?" Roxy's voice began to rise in volume.

"What do you want me to say, Roxanne?" Her father's tone was level, even; as though he was discussing how to set up his Sky+ recordings, not the death of his unborn grandchild. A death that he was responsible for.

Roxy scoffed, shaking her head. "You're not even sorry, are you?"

"Of course I am, I'm not heartless-"

"But you are, aren't you?" Roxy challenged him, her ice blue eyes boring into his face and seeing the man her father truly was.

Archie watched the expression on Roxy's face change, her eyes flashing with an emotion he'd never seen in them before. Gone was the admiration and love, now they housed something different . . . something he couldn't quite put his finger on.

"Why are you looking at me like that, Roxanne?" He asked, unnerved by the intensity of her gaze.

"You killed Ronnie's baby-"

"You're mistaken, Roxy-"

"I don't think so. You killed her baby-"

"Veronica fell into the bar-" Archie raised his voice to be heard above his daughter's.

"NO!" Roxy screamed, her fury coursing through her, making her entire body shake with the force of it. "You **pushed** my sister into _that_ bar!" She flung her arm out, pointing to the very spot Archie had chosen to seal the fate of Ronnie's unborn baby. "You killed my niece or nephew, Amy's cousin, _your_ grandchild – Ronnie's baby. You ripped her daughter from her arms and now you've ripped her baby from her stomach." Roxy could feel the sobs building in her throat, but she pushed them down – if she didn't say this now, she never would. "You're evil, d'you know that? You worm your way back into our lives and slowly destroy _everything_ you touch."

She shook her head, aghast at her own stupidity. "Even after all of your lies – about Danielle, Sean, I thought maybe, just maybe, there was still an ounce of fatherly love inside of you. But there isn't, is there? Ronnie was right about you all along." Roxy turned and went to walk away from him, but Archie caught her arm.

"No, Veronica's wrong – she's a liar-"

"Get **off** me!" Roxy shouted, her free arm swung in an arc and came down against her father's head, stunning him momentarily so she was able to wrench herself out of her grip. Stumbling backwards slightly, Roxy caught sight of a figure standing in the shadows of the opening of the bar. Their eyes met for a second and a silent pact was made between them.

Without so much as a second glance at her father, Roxy quietly opened the doors of the Vic and slipped out of them.

Leaving Jack alone with Archie.


	4. Chapter 4

Jack stepped forward, ready for the confrontation that would no doubt follow, but instantly shrank back into the darkness of the hallway. A low growl purred in his throat, fuelled by rage and frustration. He instantly stopped at the thought of Archie hearing him, but Jack needn't have worried – Archie wouldn't have been able to hear anything over the noise of someone hammering against the Vic doors.

The old man slowly moved towards the banging, his nimble fingers unlocking the doors as watching calmly as Phil staggered through them. "Philip," Archie stated, not even a hint of surprise was present in his voice.

Phil blinked, his eyes bleary with alcohol, and took a moment to look around at his surroundings. Everything looked the same, just as they had left it. But there was a vulture standing where there should have been a table lain with a Christmas dinner.

"Happy now?" Phil asked, gruffly.

Archie just looked at him, not saying a word.

"Is is everything you thought it would be? Is it everything you wanted?"

Still, Archie remained silent. This seemed to infuriate Phil who swept his arm across the bar, knocking empty glasses to the floor and laughing maniacally as the glass shattered. Archie flinched at the noise.

"You're just like 'im, aren't you? But you operate differently – he used his fists, but you, you destroy everything with mind games. You find a weak spot and you exploit it. You did it with Suzie, with Danielle, with mum, with Sam, with Sean, with Amy, with Roxy, with Ronnie – they're your daughters and you do that to them?!" Phil scoffed, disgusted.

"And I suppose you're 'Father of the Year', Philip?" Archie asked, stepping forward to the bar and pouring himself another drink. The glass crunched underfoot, but neither of the men appeared to notice.

"Nah, I'm not – but I've never hurt my kids they way you've hurt yours."

"No?" Archie challenged, cocking his head to the side.

"No!" Phil insisted.

"So where's Louise then?"

There was a sharp intake of breath as Phil felt his uncle's words slice through him like a knife. "Don't you dare," he breathed, menacingly.

"So, where is she, Philip?" He repeated the question, walking forwards with each word he spoke. "Last I heard she had a brand new daddy. . . But why would she need him if she has you? Except, oh yes, that's right – you're not **fit** to be a dad, are you?"

Before Archie knew what was happening, Phil had lurched forward, lunging his body at him before landing a fist across his face. Even through the drink fuelled haze, his strength was unmistakable and a throbbing pain shot through Archie's face.

"Your days are numbered, old man." A half smile slipped onto Phil's face. "There's so many people that want you dead, I'm sure there's someone out there that'll do the honours."

Phil laughed once again, the sound void of mirth and seemingly demented, before pushing his way through the Vic doors and stepping outside.

Archie took out a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed at the warm trickle of blood that flowed from the corner of his mouth. He bent down low and began to pick up the larger shards of glass that had smashed against the floor. But then he felt something cold and hard against the back of his neck.

"I thought you'd come."


	5. Chapter 5

"Get up," Jack hissed into Archie's ear, taking a step back to allow the old man enough room to do as he asked, but still holding the gun to the back of his head.

"Jack." There was the faintest note of surprise in Archie's voice. Letting the glass fall from his hands, he got up off of the floor.

"Expecting someone else?"

Archie thought for a moment before answering. "Yes. Veronica, actually." He felt Jack dig the gun deeper into his neck as his daughter's name slipped from his lips. "Is she-?"

"Don't pretend you care about Ronnie," Jack growled through gritted teeth, the sudden desire to pump the old man's skull full of lead almost becoming too much for him. But he reigned in his fury. There was no place for that right now. That wouldn't help him. Or Ronnie.

"She's my daughter," Archie told him simply, as though that somehow condoned everything he had done to her.

"And right now, she is in agony because her baby is bleeding out of her. And **you** did that!" Jack stopped, dragging a breath into his lungs, his rage ebbing away as he remembered the moment the doctor had come into Ronnie's hospital room to tell her the news. They'd both been so hopeful up until that moment, and then the light had dimmed in Ronnie's eyes.

_The doctor looked at them both, a sad expression on her face. They knew what she was about to say, they knew the words that would fill the room any second now. But they didn't come. _

"_The baby?" Jack asked, choking out the question. The doctor shook her head. Jack felt Ronnie's grip on his hand become tighter, their fingers squeezed together in an embrace._

"_I'm sorry," the doctor said. She took a step back, about to leave the room. To leave Ronnie and Jack with their grief. But Ronnie's voice made her stop in her tracks._

"_Say it," Ronnie whispered, her voice barely audible in the silence. The doctor looked at her quizzically. "You have to say it. You have to tell me my baby is dead or I won't believe you. . . " _

"_I'm sorry, Miss Mitchell, but your baby is dead."_

_Jack saw Ronnie's chest rise as the breath caught in her throat. He saw the tremor of her lip. He felt her hand go limp around his, as though the blood no longer pulsed through it. As though it was lifeless. Dead. _

"Turn around," Jack ordered. Everything about him was calm, his hands didn't shake and his voice didn't tremble. Maybe it was all those years in the police force that had taught him to be so detached and clinical in the moments leading up to taking someone's life, but he knew that wasn't true. He was this way because of the man standing in front of him. That was how Jack could choose this outcome without the fear of repercussion. That was how he could hold a gun to the chest of the father of the woman he was in love with. The father that had so cruelly denied her of her children, over and over again. The father that didn't deserve to have children.

"Why?" Archie asked, even as he obeyed Jack's instruction. He wasn't stupid after all, the man had a gun.

They were standing face to face now, blue eyes locked with brown. Archie refused to look at the silver weapon, but out of the corner of his eye he could see the way the Christmas lights, that adorned the tree, danced off the barrel of the gun.

"So I can watch your face as I put a bullet in your chest."


	6. Chapter 6

Archie's heart hammered in his chest involuntarily. As much as he refused to let Jack scare him, he couldn't help but feel a film of cold sweat lining his brow. There was something about Jack's voice, about how cold and clinical it was, that sent a shiver of dread through Archie's spine. It was as though the sound had been stripped of everything that made a man and the only thing that was left was fury.

Slowly, Archie turned around. "Better?" He asked with the same air of arrogance and control that always shrouded his words.

Jack's lips twisted into a menacing half smile. "It will be soon enough." His dark eyes glistened in the half light, the Christmas tree lights dancing across Jack's face.

Archie glanced cautiously at the tip of the gun before hastily dragging his eyes back to Jack's. "But will it?" The question hung in the air like a dead animal, its stench creeping into every crevice of the room. Jack stayed silent – he wasn't going to play Archie's games. "Will it make it better, Jack? Will killing me make Veronica's baby suddenly come alive?"

Jack's hand tightened around the gun, his leather glove creaking as it moved against the metal. "You have no right to speak about her-"

"Will it bring Danielle back?" The old man's eyes filled with a crazed glee at the mention of his dead granddaughter's name. He shook his head. "No, this isn't about Veronica . . . it's about you,"

"Shut up!" Jack demanded, darting forward and plunging the gun into Archie's stomach. "One more word and-"

A hollow laugh tumbled from Archie's lips. "This isn't revenge for Veronica, this is about easing your own guilt. Because if it wasn't for you, she'd still have her baby." A cruel smirk snaked its way onto Archie's face and before Jack knew what he was doing, he had pulled the gun from where it was wedged in Archie's side and smacked him in the face with it.

Blood poured from the old man's nose, but the smirk remained. "Touch a nerve, did I?" He asked, backing away from Jack and retrieving his handkerchief from his pocket before stemming the flow of blood from his face.

"That's lies." Jack's voice was steady once again, as was his gun wielding hand, once again trained on Archie's heart.

"But it isn't, is it? Because if you hadn't slept with Sam, then she wouldn't have left. Peggy would still have the Vic and there would have been no need for my little run in with Veronica."

Jack could feel Archie's words crawling over his skin, they were like fire ants, ravaging the flesh and sinking their burning fangs into his body. _He's lying, these are just more of his mind games. He's lying._

Jack propelled himself forwards, lunging at Archie and landed several punches to the man's torso. All his police training fled him. His body was pure adrenaline and every time his fist connected with Archie's body, an insatiable thirst for more violence overwhelmed him. The gun dropped from his hand as he balled both of them into fists and his knuckles pummelled Archie's body.

"You're a liar," Jack hissed, but all Archie did in reply was laugh.

"This isn't your battle, Jack – it's between me and Veronica."

"He's right," a voice stated in the darkness. "It's not your battle, Jack." Ronnie raised her arms, Jack's gun snuggled within her small hands. "It's mine."


	7. Chapter 7

Both men whipped around in the direction of where the voice had come from, their eyes searching the darkness. A lone figure stepped out of the shadows.

"Ronnie!"

"Veronica."

"Ronnie, sweetheart, what're, what're you doing?" Jack's voice trembled as his eyes darted from the gun Ronnie held in her hands to the empty look in her eyes. Without apprehension, he walked towards, one arm outstretched so he could palm the gun. But Ronnie shifted position at the last second, rendering the gun out of Jack's reach.

Their eyes locked together, an invisible thread of dialogue flowing between the orbs. "I have to," Ronnie whispered; not because she didn't want her father to hear, but because she didn't have the strength to speak any louder.

Jack nodded, understanding what she meant, understanding _her_. "You shouldn't be out of bed, Ron. You're still-" He stopped short, sucking in a sharp breath.

Ronnie took a step towards him, wincing as she did so. "You know I need to do this," she murmured.

He nodded once again. "But not like this, Ron." He shook his head. "Not like this."

"You were going to-"

"You're not _me_, Ronnie! You're different and precious and please, darling, just give me the gun," Jack begged her, his hand open for her to place the weapon in it. His eyes pleaded with her, his heart in his throat as a thousand different scenarios bolted through his mind. _There's no coming back from this, darling. If you pull that trigger . . . You should've stayed at the flat, you should've let me take care of you. I can take this, I can live with it, but darling . . . you can't._

"Veronica, listen to him," her father told her.

"Shut up!" Jack practically roared, knowing that anything Archie said could push Ronnie over the edge. She would kill her father and Jack would lose her forever.

Ronnie stared at her ex-lover's open hand for a moment, before speaking. "I hate him," She stated, her voice low and monotonous.

"I know, darling."

She lifted her eyes to Jack's, a film of heartbroken tears lining her lashes. The anger that had laced them in the hospital had now dissipated and all that was left was gut wrenching anguish.

"He killed my baby."

"I know," Jack whispered, his voice cracking with emotion. He lifted a hand to Ronnie's face, gently caressing her cheek and tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "I know he did."

"I have to, Jack. Please."

But Jack shook his head, refusing to give her permission to destroy herself for the man that had ripped her apart. "I've lost you three times already Ronnie, I'm not losing you again. So, please, darling – I'm begging you, please give me the gun."


	8. Chapter 8

Ronnie sat at the bar of the Vic, her hands palm down on the bar top, her body perfectly still. Her mind reeling. Jack had left half an hour ago. She had given him the gun on the condition that he would leave, would let her do whatever it was she needed to.

And she had done it. She had finished it. It was done now.

She could leave, get on with the rest of her life. But she stayed there, stuck in a moment of pure silence. Her thoughts stilled and her mind became numb, even her breaths became more shallow and silent.

Several minutes passed with Ronnie just sitting there and staring at the rows of liquor that lined the wall. Eventually, she turned her head and her eyes fell on the lifeless body of her father.

"_Veronica?" Archie's voice cut through Ronnie's thoughts like a knife to her skin. She had been sitting on a bar stool for the past few minutes, completely motionless. Her eyes were trained on the picture of herself and Roxy that Peggy had proudly placed there years before._

_Two years. That's all it had been. Two years._

_Ronnie closed her eyes. If she kept them closed for long enough, maybe she could go back to then. Back to when her biggest problem had been how to get rid of Damien._

"_Jack's right, you shouldn't be here."_

"_Why not? This was my home long before it became your love nest. Speaking of which, where is the child bride?" The sneer in Ronnie's voice was unmistakable."Honeymoon period already over, is it?"_

_Archie let out an exasperated sigh. "Why are you here, Veronica?"_

"_I would have thought that was obvious."_

"_You came here to kill me." Ronnie looked at him, refusing to blink. "Well, there's a slight fault in your plan – you sent Jack home with the gun."_

_She shrugged in reply. "There's more than one way to skin a cat . . . you should know that." Her expression was steely, her eyes giving nothing away._

_Archie simply raised an eyebrow and stepped behind the bar. He picked up a clean glass and filled it with a double shot of vodka before pushing it towards his daughter._

_Ronnie shook her head. "I can't mix alcohol and . . ." she stopped, the weight of her grief pressing down on her chest like a boulder. But the emotional pain suddenly turned physical as a searing ache shot through her abdomen. Ronnie groaned and gripped her stomach._

"_Ronnie?" Her father asked panicked, rushing out from behind._

"_Stay away from me!" She demanded through gritted teeth as she tried to breathe through the agony._

"_Let me help you, V-"_

"_Help?! You __**did**__ this!" Ronnie screamed at him, putting up her free arm to create a physical barrier between herself and her father. "I'm miscarrying and you did this. How can you possibly help?!"_

_Ronnie's screams stunned him into silence and Archie stood in the middle of the pub, an aghast expression painted across his face. Simply watching as his eldest daughter struggled alone in pain. She was in pain, but she refused his comfort. She would rather suffer than have his help. _

'_She hates me that much.'_

"_I didn't mean to-" Archie began, but Ronnie cut him off._

"_Didn't mean __**what**__? You didn't mean to rip my daughter from my arms? You didn't mean to lie to me about her being dead? You didn't mean to make out that __**she**__ was lying when she came to me with the truth? You didn't mean to get her killed? You didn't mean to shack up with your granddaughter's murderer? You didn't mean to kill her sister? Which part didn't you mean?!" Ronnie's fury rolled off of her in waves, each word doused in a white hot fire that burned whatever was left of her father's soul._

"_Danielle wasn't my fault. __**You**__ signed those papers, nobody forced you to do that." Ronnie scoffed. "You can scoff all you like, but that was your doing. You gave her up and she was better for it – what kind of mother would you have made at fifteen years old, eh? What could you have possibly given her? A life? A future? No child could do that."_

"_So you took her away. You took her and then you kept her from me!" Archie flinched at her words, Ronnie's bitterness like a physical blow._

_A mirthless laugh bubbled in her throat and erupted in manic tones. "D'you want to know what's funny? What's __**really**__ funny? This'll tickle you, this. If you'd have just told me you'd lied and that she was alive, if you'd just given her back to me – I wouldn't have cared. I would have been angry with you for a few months, but I would have my daughter and I wouldn't have cared . . ." She shook her head, the blonde locks falling across her face. _

_A soft sigh hissed through her parted lips and she gingerly got down from the bar stool._

"_Veronica? Where are you going?" _

"_I hope you live a very long time, dad. I hope your life is drawn out until the end and I hope you die alone, with nobody there. Because let's face it, none of us want you in our lives – you're poison and you contaminate every part of this family. Aunty Peggy's divorced you, mum's gone, Roxy doesn't want to know you and she sure as hell doesn't want you around Amy. So who's left, dad?" Ronnie lifted her shoulders in a shrug. _

_She turned around, heading for the back door. But Archie lurched forward and grabbed hold of her arm, pulling her back towards him. "Veronica! I'm still your father, don't you dare walk away from me!"_

"_You're mistaken; my dad died twenty years ago; the night my daughter was born. I don't know what you are, but you're not my dad." Ronnie twisted her arm out of her father's grip and began to leave the pub._

"_No! Veronica! I'm still your father! I am your father and I am ordering you to come back here! Come back, Veronica. Ronnie! No! Don't leave m-" Archie cried out, clutching his chest with his right hand._

_Ronnie turned at the sound of her father dropping to his knees. Her blue eyes watching as his face scrunched up in pain. Her feet moved of their own accord and Ronnie found herself kneeling on the floor next to him._

"_V," he gasped out, his left hand searching for hers. "I'm . .sorry."_

"_Sorry for what?" Ronnie asked, her grief as wide and as deep as an ocean. "They're just words. If you won't tell me what you're sorry for, they're just words – they don't mean anything." She swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat. "What are you sorry for, dad?"_

"_I'm . .sorry." _

_His face relaxed and his hand went limp. _

_But Ronnie didn't let go. _

_She held on._

_She stayed._

Ronnie stepped down from the bar stool and began to walk to the back entrance of the vic. She stopped as she passed the Christmas tree that had been put in the corner, her eyes instantly drawn to the glass angel that stood atop it. A breath caught in her throat for a moment, but she dragged her eyes away and slipped out of the pub.

"Jack," Ronnie said in surprise, practically bumping into him as she walked through the alleyway. "What're you-?"

"I can't leave you, Ron," Jack replied.

Ronnie nodded. "He's dead." Bewilderment crossed her delicate features and before she could force herself to shut down, tears flowed down Ronnie's cheek like a river that had broken its banks. "He's dead."

Jack pulled Ronnie into a tight embrace, holding onto her to stop her free falling. "Shh, shh," he whispered, stroking the back of her head as he did so. "You're all right, you're all right. It's okay," Jack murmured as Ronnie clung to him, her chest heaving as she wept with wild abandonment for the father that she had lost and the man he had never been.

**THE END**


End file.
